Christmas With the Grangers
by StrongHermione
Summary: When Draco Malfoy has a change of heart, he must be hidden for his safety. Dumbledore relies on Hermione's proven discretion and her innate goodness to help the Order with their newest member. Will these two combatants have a happy Christmas? 6th Year; AU; OOC
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters, situations or locations you recognise are the property of these individuals and corporations. No money is made from the writing of this story.

This story was written as a prize for SusanMarieR at The Maple Bookshelf. Thanks must also go to LadyStiff for cheerleading and to TycheSong for her fabulous beta work. This story is complete in four chapters, plus an epilogue.

* * *

"I hope you have a Merry Christmas, Hermione."

Hermione Granger threw her arms around her best friend, Harry Potter, and returned his wish. This was the first Christmas in four years that they would not be spending together. She had hoped to invite Harry home to her house this year, but while she was waiting for her parents' answer, their other best friend, Ron Weasley, had invited Harry to his house.

'_C'est la vie_,' Hermione thought. She could use these next three weeks wisely. There was homework to complete, new movies to see, old friends to catch up with – contrary to popular belief, Hermione actually _did_ have two or three close friends in the Muggle world, as well as several acquaintances she could hang out with at any time – and of course, she had her family to spend time with.

Speaking of family to spend time with, she wondered if her parents would be opening their home to any disadvantaged member of society this year. Her parents were quite wealthy – not in-your-face, over-the-top, stinking rich – but Hermione enjoyed the comforts of an upper-middle class lifestyle. To that end, her parents often housed foster children, or poor students, or even on one occasion, a young couple with twin babies who had fallen on hard times and were facing homelessness. That couple had lived with the Grangers for a year while they got back on their feet. Victoria and Charles Granger believed that since fate had smiled upon them, they should give something back. They were values they also instilled in their daughter.

Hermione and Harry pulled back from their hug just as Draco Malfoy walked past. The blond Slytherin had his trademark sneer planted on his face, but Hermione could not help think that it was not as malevolent as usual – almost as if there was no true malice behind it. It was certainly still derisive, but there was an air of _– resignation?_ – about it too. She turned back to her friend as he watched Malfoy's retreating back. A scowl had formed on Harry's face.

"I wish there was some way to spy on him over the holidays," he said. "If he is up to something, now would be the perfect time for him to act on it since he's away from school. His _master_ will probably spend the holidays coaching him in dark spells and torturing innocent Muggles."

"Oh, Harry, let it go already. Yes, Malfoy is a sodding little cockroach who probably has delusions of glory on the dark side, but as I have repeatedly told you, he would not yet be marked. He is only sixteen." Hermione was getting very tired of this argument with Harry, and she did not want their last conversation for three weeks to end with them sniping at each other. "Now, make sure you get all your homework done, and owl me. I want a letter at least every four days," she said with a smile.

Harry's face relaxed again. "Yes, Hermione, I promise," he said. With a final hug, the friends parted – Harry to floo with the Weasleys back to their home in Devon and Hermione to meet up with her parents in the station, on the other side of the barrier from Platform 9¾.

Hermione waited patiently for her turn to go through the barrier. An attendant was there to ensure that one hundred teenagers did not just materialise in a giant heap on platforms nine and ten in Kings Cross Station. Hermione was curious to see Malfoy's platinum blond head ahead of her in the line. She wondered what on earth _he_ would be going through the Muggle entrance for. Her thoughts drifted away, contemplating what activities she could undertake during her break.

'_Today is Saturday; we will do something as a family tomorrow. Then if I spend Monday through Wednesday on my homework, that will all be done and I can just revise essays and stuff in the evenings while we relax. That leaves two and a half weeks of fun, fun, fun! I wonder if I can go and stay at Grampy's for a few days..._' Hermione's thoughts were cut off when the attendant cleared his throat. She was surprised to now find herself at the front of the line. With a small, apologetic smile, she pushed her cart forward and ran at the barrier.

Following the brief moment of seeming displacement as she 'melted' through the wall, she found herself back in the bustle of Saturday afternoon London. She took a deep breath and smiled, loving the atmosphere of hundreds of people on the platform, all rushing to their destinations, but still maintaining that polite, very British demeanour – apologising when they bumped into each other and such.

Hermione pushed her cart through to the grand lobby area of the old station. Her parents had owled her that they would meet her by the newsstand there. As she approached, she stood on her tiptoes, trying to see above the crowd and spot her Mum and Dad. Finally there was a shift in the thousands of bodies in front of her and the tall, handsome body and face of her father came into view. She smiled happily, a smile that froze when the shift of the crowd brought another tall body, but definitely not so handsome face into the picture. '_Is that Professor_ Snape_?_' Hermione thought incredulously. She quickened her pace, becoming even more worried when Professor McGonagall was revealed to be standing next to her mother. It was not until she was a mere ten feet away from the odd group that she noticed the presence of Draco Malfoy.

"Hermione!" her mother called as soon as she spotted her daughter. Hermione's looks had all come from her mother, Victoria. She had once overheard her father complain to her mother that he found it very difficult to deny Hermione anything, or even discipline her for wrongdoing when it was Victoria's face in front of him with a pleading or contrite expression. He was finding it more difficult the older she got and the more her face became exactly like her mother's. As Hermione got older, she also learned when to use this information best to her advantage – usually while out shopping for books or when pleading to be allowed to spend the night at a friend's house.

Hermione was engulfed in a double hug from her parents. She greeted them happily, once again content in her parents' arms. A part of her worried for a second as to how much longer she would be able to bask in this parental love – the war was heating up and she would have to talk to her Mum and Dad about it soon. Their safety was her top priority. Which brought her back to, why were her professors and her tormentor-in-chief standing here too?

"How was your trip, Love?" Doctor Charles Granger asked.

"It was okay," Hermione replied. In fact it had been rather trying. She was not comfortable being around Ron at the moment. He kept pushing his '_relationship_' with Lavender Brown in Hermione's face and today, she really just did not want to deal with it. She had spent most of the ride sitting with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, just reading and chatting. She would have spent time with Harry if he had not spent the entire ride with Ron, but he was also getting on her nerves what with his constant theorising about what Malfoy was up to, along with that _stupid_ book...

"I guess you know everyone here," Doctor Victoria Granger commented, gesturing to the other three members of their little cluster.

"Yes, good afternoon Professors," Hermione said politely. "Malfoy," she acknowledged; a slight insolent tone to her voice. Professor McGonagall returned her spoken greeting, Professor Snape simply nodded. Malfoy did not acknowledge her greeting at all until a sharp nudge from Professor Snape garnered a curt "_Granger_", from his lips.

"Perhaps we should return to your home, Doctor Granger," Professor Snape said to Charles. "It is unwise to stay in the open for too long, someone may come to investigate Draco's whereabouts."

"Of course, we can leave immediately," Charles replied. The group was guided to a small waiting room off the main lobby by Professor McGonagall.

Hermione was starting to feel a little nervous. As soon as they were in the room, Hermione whipped her wand out of her sleeve and pointed it at turns between all the occupants. "Identify yourselves," she demanded. Her parents came close to her and whispered in her ear the pet name she had been called since she was a toddler. This routine had been established during the previous summer in line with the guidelines set out by the Ministry and they understood why Hermione might be uneasy right now. They had been involved in this little endeavour for the last several days, and Professor Dumbledore had warned them their daughter might react like this.

Professor McGonagall puffed up with pride at her student's order. It would be unlike Hermione not to question them before she allowed them to take her anywhere. She too bent forward and whispered the comment she had written on Hermione's latest Transfiguration essay. Once Hermione was satisfied that she, too, was indeed who she appeared to be, the Professor went to stand next to the Grangers. It left Professor Snape and Malfoy standing, staring at the brunette Witch.

"Do you really think you would still be in one piece, Miss Granger, if in fact I wished you harm?" Professor Snape sneered.

"Perhaps you are trying to lull me into a false sense of security, Sir," Hermione retorted.

"Put your wand away, Silly Girl," the Professor commanded sharply.

"Not until I am satisfied you are who you say you are," Hermione persisted.

"Do you believe Professor McGonagall would not have confirmed my identity already?" Professor Snape asked snidely.

"That theory is peppered with holes, Sir," Hermione replied. Her wand was still levelled at the professor. "You may have managed to pass her security questions. You may have placed her under the Imperius curse. It is doubtful, but she may have taken you purely on your word. You have not demonstrated to me, that you are in fact Professor Snape, beyond your mannerisms and remarks."

Professor Snape narrowed his eyes at the diminutive Witch. "We have no security questions between us, Miss Granger. Just how do you propose I satisfy your criteria to prove my identity?" he drawled.

Hermione's eyes glinted with mischievousness. Professor McGonagall's answer gave her an idea. "Please relate the comment you wrote on my final Potions homework essay at the end of last year." Professor Snape's eyes widened fractionally and for a moment, Hermione fancied she saw a flash of annoyed dismay cross his face. She knew it was him now, but the opportunity to have him say this aloud was too good to pass up. "Sir?" she prompted.

Professor Snape's jaw clenched fleetingly, before he closed his eyes and seethed: "It has only taken five years for you to desist on regurgitating the words of others, and finally inject your own thoughts and theories into your work. Your conclusion is correct and is one of only two in the class to reach it. Grade: Outstanding," he quoted.

Hermione smirked in triumph before turning her wand on Malfoy, the last person in the room to still have his identity unconfirmed. He merely looked at her in indifference. "Well?" she asked.

"Well what?" Malfoy taunted.

"Third year, just before the Gryffindor/Slytherin quidditch match, you were boasting about what your father would do to Hagrid, what was my response?" she asked, smirk still firmly in place. She was rewarded with Malfoy's demeanour paling and a scowl forming on his features.

"You wouldn't dare," he snarled.

"Oh yes I would," she growled back. The pair stared at each other for several seconds, neither willing to back down. Like she had realised with Professor Snape, she had no doubt that this truly was Malfoy, but she was enjoying his discomfort at having to admit something he would prefer to keep quiet. He mumbled something under his breath. "Sorry?" she replied loudly. "I didn't quite catch that."

"You punched me in the face," he gritted out through his teeth.

For a moment Hermione considered making him repeat what she had called him, but she felt that might be pushing her luck. She would likely be hexed over it. And now that she was satisfied that everyone was in fact who they said they were; she was burning with desire to know just what was going on. She put her wand away as Professor McGonagall produced a flatware plate from her robes. She held it out for everyone to grasp – '_obviously a portkey_,' Hermione thought, reaching out to grab hold.

"Hang on," Malfoy called. "She hasn't identified herself yet," he argued, pointing at Hermione.

Professor Snape pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Draco, I wish for this infernal day to be over. You know very well that this is Miss Granger, stop stalling and get over here so we can leave."

"Not until I am convinced she is who she says she is," Malfoy responded stubbornly. Professor Snape muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like '_Teenagers!_'

Charles looked between the two young people. "He's right, Hermione. You insisted that Draco identify himself to you, you should return the courtesy," he instructed. He looked at Malfoy, encouraging him to ask his question.

Malfoy thought for a few seconds before a devious grin stole over his mouth. "Second year, just after Christmas, I was in the Hospital Wing getting treated for a cold and there was a curtained off bed right at the end with a little sign reading "_Hermione Granger_". Being concerned at what might have befallen my year-mate," sarcasm was fairly dripping from his tone as he said this, "I peeked in. What did I see?"

"No, no there is no way you saw that," Hermione argued, her eyes wide with horror at the thought of her nemesis holding this sort of information. "You couldn't possibly know that and not have shouted it to the entire castle!"

"I may have been sworn to secrecy by the two professors here, and Madam Pomfrey. Consequently, I can reveal my knowledge since everyone here knows it anyway." Malfoy's smugness irked her. "What did I see?" he repeated.

"A cat," she spat at him.

"More details, please."

"Fine, you saw me having been turned into a cat," Hermione elaborated.

Hermione's parents sported small smiles. They had been shown photographs by Professor McGonagall of their daughter's plight. Until then, they had had difficulty in grasping the situation. Professor McGonagall had assured them that Hermione would suffer no permanent damage; she just had to wait three weeks for the correct antidote to be brewed. Victoria and Charles had had a wonderful time that summer gently teasing their daughter about it.

Malfoy now moved to also grasp the plate that Professor McGonagall was holding, his moment of fun over. The six people in the waiting room disappeared as the portkey was activated, along with their luggage and one very disgruntled half-kneazle. They materialised moments later in the dining room of the Granger's terraced residence in London.

* * *

Thank you for reading. Reviews are welcome. Another update will be coming soon...


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: __Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters, situations or locations you recognise are the property of these individuals and corporations. No money is made from the writing of this story._

_Thanks to LadyStiff for cheerleading and to TycheSong for her fabulous beta work._

_Both Hermione and Draco may seem out of character from here on in. Remember Hermione has never been seen in her home environment, so I have taken creative license in making her much more relaxed and carefree while in the company of her parents. Draco has just undergone a paradigm shift in his life, so would naturally be out of established character as he redefines himself. _

**Chapter 2**

.

Hermione immediately released Crookshanks from his carrier. With what could only be described as a disdainful glare, the half-Kneazle shot out of the carrier and careened out the door – presumably heading for the outdoors. The bang of the kitty door in the utility room confirmed this a few moments later.

"So, can someone please let me know why we have brought the professors and Malfoy here?" Hermione asked.

"Come, Severus, Mr Malfoy, we will begin to set the wards. Charles and Victoria, we will leave you to explain to Miss Granger what is happening," Professor McGonagall instructed.

Hermione waited as long as it took for the trio to leave the room before she rounded on her parents. An awful suspicion had bloomed in her chest. "What is going on? Please, _please_ tell me that Malfoy is not staying here," Hermione begged.

Charles and Victoria looked at her sympathetically. "We can't tell you that, Roc," Victoria said. "We have agreed to host Draco for the holidays."

"WHAT?" Hermione screeched.

"Now, Roc, you knew it was likely we would have someone to stay," Charles said. "Especially once you wrote us back that Harry had made other plans. Professor Dumbledore approached us a couple of days ago and asked this favour. Considering that Draco is one of your classmates, we thought it would be a suitable arrangement," Charles replied calmly.

"But... but, he hates Muggles! He hates Muggleborns! He hates _me_!" Hermione shrilled.

"He has had a change of heart, Miss Granger," a new voice said from the doorway. Hermione turned in astonishment to see Professor Albus Dumbledore himself, in her dining room. It looked odd somehow, this quintessential Wizard gazing around as if he had never been more interested in his surroundings. His twinkle-eyed gaze came to rest on her. "Mr Malfoy has been made to see the error of his ways, ironically by you, and wishes to help in our effort against Lord Voldemort."

"And just like that, you believe him?" Hermione asked incredulously. She pulled her wand from her sleeve for the second time in the space of thirty minutes. She did not point it at her headmaster though. "I will need you to identify yourself, sir," she said firmly.

Dumbledore gave her a brief look of approval. "Indeed, Miss Granger, that will be wise. I propose that you identify yourself to me first, and then I will be able to leave you in no doubt of whom I truly am. Please tell me which bottle you drank from in your first year, to get back through to your friend?"

Hermione thought for a moment. He was obviously referring to the potion she drank enabling her to get through the purple flames back to where Ron lay injured. "The round bottle on the end at the right, sir," she said confidently.

"Very well, Miss Granger," Dumbledore came close enough to her to whisper in her ear, "The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix can be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London." Hermione was satisfied; she knew Professor Dumbledore was the only man in the world who could utter that sentence.

"And you still believe Malfoy?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Granger, may I call you Hermione?" Dumbledore asked politely. Hermione nodded. "Hermione, Draco came to me last week. He has been tasked with something that he has been wrestling with his conscience over. For the sake of his mother's safety, he has engaged in some acts which he has found reprehensible and, rather than continue down this path, he approached me and threw himself on my mercy.

"After listening to his testimony I, along with Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, questioned him and essentially debriefed him as to his role within Voldemort's organisation of Death Eaters."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up at this information. '_Damn, Harry was right - he _is_ involved to his eye teeth_,' she thought. Hermione hated being wrong.

"Draco is aware you will be told all this, and the Order is relying on your excellent track record of discretion and responsibility. Your parents are also completely aware of everything," Professor Dumbledore continued.

"Excuse me, sir," Hermione interrupted. "You seem to be very forthcoming with this information. I was under the impression that you prefer to hold the cards close to your chest, so to speak," she observed. Harry would give his right arm for the sort of information Professor Dumbledore seemed to be freely imparting.

"I only hold cards close that I have either been asked to hold, or if I fear my associate will either be indiscreet, or a security risk. I believe you are referring to Harry's complaints that I don't tell him everything he feels he should know."

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied.

"You are noted for your discretion, you proved it back in your third year when you had use of the time turner, and the knowledge of Remus's condition and yet told no one until it was either necessary, or revealed," Professor Dumbledore complimented her. "The information Draco has imparted so far, and the information he will be able to extract from his housemates will be invaluable to us, and may help bring this conflict to a swifter close than we thought possible. It is my hope that you will be able to put aside your own feelings of animosity toward Draco, and offer him a second chance. He is willing to do the same."

Hermione was thoughtful. "When you first spoke, sir, you said that Malfoy had a change of heart because of me. How did that happen?"

"Draco has been schooled since birth that Muggles and Muggleborns are an inferior race of human beings. That they are little better than animals—huddled together in a shack, little to eat, barely enough clothes to wear, illiterate, uncouth, sexed-up deviants. I believe those were his words. You fly in the face of everything he was ever taught. Do you know Mr Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff is a member of the British aristocracy? His mother is the daughter of Lord Brierley," Professor Dumbledore said.

Hermione nodded at this information, she had known this since second year. Her parents looked mildly impressed. Lord Brierley was an influential member of the House of Lords in the British Parliament. "In your year alone, we have examples of Muggleborns who are brilliant scholars," he nodded to Hermione, "excel in the arts," Hermione knew he was referring to Sally-Anne Perks – a noted young ballerina – and Dean Thomas who would be exhibiting some art work in a gallery in London these holidays. "And who are higher born in this country than anyone at Hogwarts. Draco has come to the conclusion everything he has been taught, is a lie. He wishes to redeem himself."

"Why does he have to do that here though?" Hermione asked.

"Because he is a young man in need, Roc," Charles said. "From what Professor Dumbledore has told us, while his upbringing has been in the lap of luxury, it has been lacking in some of the more basic elements. Positive attention and reinforcement, how to survive on his own with no servants, and he wishes to overcome his innate sense of entitlement, simply because of who he is. He has no desire to be a young version of his father any longer."

"You talk as if you have met him before," Hermione commented.

"We have, Roc," Victoria said. "Professor Snape brought him here two nights ago to check the wards you had Remus place over the summer and adjust them to make sure Draco could live here. While he was doing that, we had a cup of tea and got to know Draco a little bit. We are confident that by the end of this holiday, he will be on the way to being the sort of man he wishes to be, not the sort of boy he was."

"He was still rude to me earlier," Hermione pointed out.

Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "I believe it will take more than a few moments before overcoming five years of hostility, Hermione. Did he call you any particularly offensive names?" he asked.

Hermione turned her nose up a little. "Well, no," she admitted. "His tone was hostile though."

"One could expect that from a frightened young man in his position. We have told him he may trust you not to run to your friends and reveal his whereabouts. He may also trust you to give him the second chance he so richly needs. If everyone on our side, particularly the ones his age, continue to treat him the way you always have, then what motivation will he have to continue to help us? As I said earlier, his information has already proved invaluable and it will continue to do so. May I count on you, Hermione, to be the first to extend the hand of kindness and friendship?" Professor Dumbledore implored.

Hermione looked into the twinkling blue eyes of her Headmaster. For a moment, she was reminded of the bright blue, twinkling eyes of her Grampy. She wondered if it was an '_old man_' thing. In the face of Professor Dumbledore's sincerity, which she had absolutely no cause to doubt, she felt herself wavering. "All right," she agreed with resignation. "But he has to promise to do his best in return. I will not be subject to his superiority complex and name calling in my own house," Hermione bargained.

"I can agree to that," a masculine voice said from the doorway. Hermione's view of the door had been blocked by the headmaster. She wondered how long Malfoy had been listening. Professor Dumbledore moved to the side, Malfoy was standing there with a sincere look on his face. Hermione blinked, she had never seen that expression on his countenance.

"Very well then, agreed," Hermione replied.

Victoria and Charles were almost beaming with pride at their daughter's maturity and quick acquiescence. Likewise, Professor Dumbledore radiated satisfaction at the situation. Both teenagers were inwardly proud of the reactions they had elicited from the adults.

Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall were standing behind Malfoy in the doorway. With a brief nod to Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape acknowledged the wards were set. The three professors bade the Grangers and Malfoy a farewell and, in the cases of Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, many happy returns for the season.

"Why don't you show Draco where he will be sleeping, Roc?" Charles suggested. "One more thing, both of you, there will be no '_Malfoy_' and '_Granger_' in this house. You are '_Draco_' and '_Hermione_', got it?"

"Yes, Dad," "Yes, sir," they replied in unison.

"Draco, it's Victoria and Charles, as we said the other night. Three weeks is a long time for formality to reign. While you are here, we want you to feel at home," Charles said. Draco nodded his understanding.

"Come on, Draco. I will show you to your room," Hermione said politely. She grabbed the handle of her trunk and pulled it behind her out the door. She could hear Draco following behind. At the bottom of the stairs, she withdrew her wand and cast a levitation spell on her trunk, guiding it up the stairs to the landing. She turned to Draco. "Would you like me to levitate yours up as well, or do you want to carry it?"

"What the hell, Gran– Hermione? You can't do magic outside of school! You're going to get us busted within five minutes!" Draco hissed, incensed at her action.

"I'm seventeen, Draco. I can do all the magic I want," she relied, a smug grin on her face.

"Well that just sucks! When did you turn seventeen anyway?" he asked.

"September," she replied. "Do you want me to levitate your trunk or not?"

"Please," he said, a little sarcastically.

Hermione smirked and levitated Draco's trunk to come to rest next to hers. The pair then climbed the stairs unencumbered. "Did Mum and Dad show you around when you were here?" Hermione asked.

"Only downstairs," Draco replied.

"Okay." Hermione began indicating doors, some closed, some open. "My room, your room, bathroom. That door leads upstairs to the master suite. Knock really loud before you go up and there's another door at the top of the staircase. Wait for an answer before you go in, otherwise you might see something you _really_ don't want to see." Draco looked at Hermione incredulously at this information.

"It was one time, Hermione," Charles reminded her as he passed on his way to his and Victoria's room.

"Don't care; I was fourteen, scarred for life!" Hermione called after him. Charles's laughter could be heard going up the stairs.

"No room is out of bounds. Knock before you enter any closed doors though and if I catch you going through my things..." Hermione warned. "Those two doors there are guest bedrooms, but they are a bit smaller than the one you're staying in. Plus your room has the door leading into the bathroom." Draco was nodding in understanding at everything Hermione was saying. She grabbed the handle of her trunk. "I'm going to unpack, I guess you should do the same," Hermione suggested. She turned and walked to her bedroom door. "If you need anything," she said, a little grudgingly, "just knock or yell out." She disappeared into her bedroom, leaving Draco standing on the large landing.

Hermione leaned against her closed bedroom door. '_Oh, this is going to be a _fun_ holiday_,' she thought ruefully.

.

Draco stood looking at Hermione's closed door for a moment, before grabbing his own trunk and turning towards the door she had indicated. '_Well, let's see what sort of dog-box accommodation I have here_,' he thought uncharitably. While he had defected to the side of the light in this war, dragging his mother and probably his father along with him, he was still having some trouble adjusting to the new situation he found himself in. When listening to Dumbledore's words earlier, he had almost wondered who the aging headmaster had been talking about. Yes, he was willing to turn over a new leaf, and yes he had come to terms with the fact that one's blood purity did not define them as a human being, but he was the product of his upbringing, and suddenly changing sixteen years' worth of it was not going to happen overnight. Acknowledging Granger—_Hermione_—as his equal was a good start. Except she was not his equal—she was already seventeen and allowed to do things he still was not, because of the trace on underage magic.

'_Although, any magic done in the house, they will assume is from her. Only five people outside this house know I'm staying here..._' Draco withdrew his wand, and hesitated a moment. He cast a levitation spell on his trunk and watched as the door in front of him opened and the trunk drifted inside. He cancelled the spell, and entered the room, closing the door behind him. He sat down on the bed and resolved to wait for ten minutes. He knew that was how long it would take for Ministerial correspondence to reach him.

While he waited, he examined his new surroundings, getting up once in a while to look closer at things. He opened a door leading into a walk-in wardrobe. It was a decent size, nothing like his dressing room in the Manor, but certainly big enough to store everything he needed to and more. He opened the other door, revealing the bathroom Hermione had pointed out. There were two sinks, a large bath and separate shower stall. There were two more doors leading out of the bathroom, one to Hermione's bedroom (he realised that after pressing his ear to it and hearing her mumbling and moving about) and the other opened to reveal a toilet and tiny wash basin. He was momentarily confused until he noticed a partial door around a corner in the small room. He opened that to reveal the hallway.

'_Smart_,' he thought. If he woke up and Hermione was in the bathroom, he would still be able to relieve himself in private without having to go downstairs. Draco noted the locks on all the doors as well, further assurance that he would have his privacy and also that he would not inadvertently walk in on Grang—_Hermione_. He walked back into the bedroom and sat down again.

He smirked in satisfaction—no letter from the Ministry regarding underage magic. '_As long as I don't overdo it, I can make things a little easier for myself_,' he thought with satisfaction. A wave of his wand later and his trunk was open, his clothes flying toward the wardrobe and dresser, his toiletries lining up in the bathroom and his books stacking themselves on the desk. '_Pretty good, if I say so myself_,' he thought.

He looked up at a knock on the door. He quickly stowed his wand back in his sleeve and called, "Come in."

Charles poked his head through the door. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you," Draco replied politely.

"It's probably not as big as you're used to, but for a house this size, it's pretty generous," Charles said, referring to the room.

"It's fine," Draco replied.

"Well, I see you're unpacked. You can get changed if you'd like. Come downstairs when you're ready and find us. England is playing Zimbabwe, day three highlights. We made 406 runs in the first innings! We're giving them a bit of a run for their money, hopefully we won't have a draw," Charles said encouragingly. Draco stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Well, come on down anyway, I'll turn you into a cricket fanatic yet." Charles smiled at the young Wizard once more before leaving him alone.

'_406 runs, what the hell is that? Are England and Zimbabwe playing Quidditch? Day _three_? How have I not heard about that and how does _Charles_ know about it? Crickets? What sort of place has Dumbledore left me in? The man is an insect nut!_' The cryptic words were playing over and over in Draco's head, but he could make no sense out of them other than '_come downstairs and find us_'. Maybe he would look for Victoria and Hermione.

Draco went to the wardrobe and pulled out some casual clothes. He slipped his shoes off; keeping his socks on as he had noticed that was what Charles had done. After donning a pair of khaki cargo pants and a black tee shirt, he looked in his dresser drawer for a jumper. With a smirk, he pulled out his Slytherin sweatshirt. '_Perfect, this will get right up Granger's arse and I won't even have done anything wrong. Dammit, _Hermione_!_' He was trying to remember to refer to Hermione by her name, even in his head. That way he would not slip up. He realised the risk the Grangers were taking by housing him for the holidays, and he was grateful for it.

'_Maybe by the end of the holiday I'll know what it's like to be part of a real family, with a Mum and a Dad rather than a mother and a father... Maybe they will be able to help me deal with what I've already had to endure..._' Draco abruptly cut off his inner self-retrospection. He just did not want to deal with it today. He knew he would have to confront himself sooner or later, but he wanted a few days of being worry-free, well less worried than usual, first. With a sigh he pushed himself up and went out the door and down the stairs.

He could hear Charles in the sitting room, yelling at someone. "HOWZAT! Oh, you BASTARD! That was OUT!" Draco peeked into the room to see Charles on his knees, with his hands out in front of him, gesturing at a box with moving pictures on it. Draco was starting to worry for the man's mental health – and by extension his own. How could this man help him? He decided to go looking for Victoria; maybe Charles needed a potion or something.

"Again, again," Victoria's excited voice floated out from the kitchen. A crash of breaking china had Draco speeding up to reach the door of the kitchen. He was just in time to see Hermione cast "_Reparo_" on a pile of shattered porcelain. He watched as the fragments reformed to a delicate china tea cup. Victoria clapped her hands in delight. "Oh once more, Roc, please?" she begged. Victoria held the cup high, ready to smash it on the floor again.

"Mum, Mum, stop," Hermione cried, grabbing hold of her mother's hand before she could drop the cup again. "Once or twice on the same item is fine, but if you keep smashing and I keep repairing the same cup, eventually the spells will fail and the cup will fall apart. What if, when that happens, a guest of yours is holding it?" Hermione asked.

"What? That makes no sense, its magic," Victoria argued.

"What if I go to see you with a cavity? You fill it, then a couple of years later the filling falls out, taking some of the tooth with it because it has deteriorated. You know, eventually, you will have to replace that tooth because I'm not taking care of it and it's beyond repair. Same thing here," Hermione explained it in a way her mother could relate to.

Understanding immediately dawned on Victoria's face. "I see," she said. She put the teacup back in the cupboard and extracted a plate. "Do this one instead," she said excitedly, hurling it to the ground where it shattered against the tiles.

"Certifiable," Draco mumbled. They were both crazy, he was sure of it. The only thing keeping him here was the fact that Gr—_Hermione_—did not seem to think anything was amiss. With a roll of her eyes, she repaired the plate, placing it back in the cupboard with its cup-mate.

"You know I can do more than just repair things, Mum," Hermione informed her. She was having a wonderful time, finally showing her mother what she had been learning for the last five and a half years. She knew if the cricket wasn't on, her father would be in here as well.

"What else? Show me everything," Victoria instructed. Draco cleared his throat from the doorway. "Draco, come in, sit down. Hermione has been showing me some of the magic you both can do. I've only ever seen magic being done a few times. I was too shocked to pay much attention, but this is wonderful. What can you show me?" Victoria gushed.

"Nothing really, I'm not allowed to do magic outside of school," he replied. '_Not magic in front of anyone, anyway_,' he thought smugly.

"Quite right, he can get into a lot of trouble from the Ministry if he is caught and I'm sure Draco does not want to bring that sort of trouble down on himself. Not now that Professor Dumbledore has kindly agreed to help him," Hermione's smug grin faded into a look of disgust when she saw what Draco was wearing. It was his turn to park a smug grin on his face.

"Problem, Hermione?" he asked cheekily.

"Of course not," she replied sweetly. "I can also Transfigure things, Mum." With that, she waved her wand toward Draco and performed a Switching Spell. Draco looked down at his body in horror as his proud, green and silver Slytherin shirt, changed to that of the red and gold of Gryffindor.

"Change. It. Back!" he demanded.

"Oh, you know, I don't think I can," Hermione replied, false contrition lacing her tone.

"Now!" he ordered.

"You've had your fun, Roc. Change it back," Victoria instructed. Hermione pursed her lips in a moue of disappointment before casually waving her wand and restoring the shirt to its former state. She started to rock side to side all of a sudden, as though she were unable to keep her feet. Draco looked at her in alarm, had someone found them? Were they cursing her through a window or something?

At the identical look she got from her mother, Hermione continued rocking but explained, "Disturbance... in the Earth's... rotation... can't... keep my feet... Draco wearing... Gryffindor shirt... too many Malfoys... spinning in their graves!" She pealed into gales of laughter at her own humour. Victoria continued to look at her strangely while Draco made a '_ha-ha, very funny_' face at her.

"You're hilarious, Hermione," he deadpanned. He wondered if she was like this at school. She had never acted this way anytime he had seen her, but perhaps with her friends...

"I know," she replied saucily.

A faint cry from the sitting room of "BOWLED 'IM" filtered through.

"There'll be ads now, he'll come in to get a drink," Victoria predicted. Sure enough, within thirty seconds, Charles strolled through the door and headed straight for the fridge. He reached in and extracted a bottle of Diet Coke. Hermione's eyes lit up and a look of excitement, such as Draco had never seen on her, came over her face.

"Coke? Dad, I _love_ you!" she cried, joyfully hugging her father before turning to the cabinet and extracting four glasses.

"Love me as much as you want. You can have one glass today, the rest is for Christmas and New Year's Eve," Charles replied.

"I don't care, gimme, gimme, gimme!" She reached out her hand for the bottle Charles was holding.

'_She's as nuts as her Mum and Dad!_' Draco thought. He was now seriously considering contacting Dumbledore and asking to be moved. Surely there was someone on the light side who was... sane! He continued to watch warily as Hermione poured a strange black liquid into the four glasses. A weird sort of foam formed on top of each one, and she kept on having to go back and pour more liquid into the glasses as the foam evaporated.

Charles picked up two of the glasses and brought them to the table, setting one in front of Draco. Hermione had recapped the bottle and returned it to the fridge before retrieving the other two glasses and bringing them to the table too, handing one to her mother. The three Grangers all took sips from their glasses, Hermione finishing with a relished, "Aaahhh!" after she had swallowed.

"Draco, don't you like Diet Coke?" Victoria asked, noticing Draco had yet to touch his glass. He was watching the little bubbles inside it with fascination.

He looked up into Hermione's eyes. "Is this a potion?" he asked.

Hermione giggled a little bit. "Sort of, I guess. Not a magical potion, it's a soft drink. It's really sweet and syrupy and the bubbles make your nose feel funny. Try it, I promise it's okay. You saw the three of us drink it and we're alright," she said, gesturing to herself and her parents.

'_That's a matter of opinion_,' Draco thought. He bravely reached out and brought the glass to his lips. The bubbles were popping on the surface of the liquid, causing some moisture to leap up onto his face. He hesitantly took a large sip, enough so he could get a decent taste of whatever this was. An explosion of sweetness and popping entered his mouth. Hermione was right about his nose, he could feel the bubbles going off in there. '_If this wasn't magic..._' He swallowed, a slightly bitter aftertaste forming in his mouth.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure," Draco replied tentatively.

"Well, relish it, you won't get a chance for a second opinion until Christmas Day," Hermione said. She was still slowly sipping from her own glass.

"Why not?" Draco asked.

"The contents of that glass will ruin your teeth," Charles said sternly. Hermione giggled again when Draco practically slammed the glass onto the table, a look of horrified betrayal on his face.

"Not after one glass, Draco," she assured him. "If you drink an entire bottle, every day, then after a long, long, long time, it will ruin your teeth. Dad only lets me drink this at Christmas, New Year and my birthday. What's the occasion today?" Hermione asked Charles.

"They were half price at Tesco's for one, and for two, we were very pleased with your end-of-term results. Plus, we wanted to welcome Draco properly and I know how much you kids love Coke," Charles replied.

"I have a question," Draco said. At the looks of encouragement, he continued, "The bottle said 'Diet Coke' and so did Victoria, but Charles and Hermione keep just saying 'Coke', why is that?"

"Coke is the short name for a brand – Coca Cola," Hermione explained. "Coke is the original drink, but it is full of sugar and Mum and Dad don't let me drink that. It will ruin your teeth a lot faster than Diet Coke and by drinking a lot less, too. Diet Coke is sweetened artificially, so is not quite as bad. It's still got loads of caffeine though, and the effervescence which is bad for the teeth."

Here was the Hermione Draco was used to. The know-it-all. Unfortunately he needed her to explain something else. "Effer-what-did-you-call-it?"

Hermione smiled, "Effervescence," she enunciated clearly. "It's the official name of the bubbles."

Draco nodded. "Right," he said. He lifted the glass and took another drink. It wasn't too bad, the more he tasted it. Not something he would like all the time, he thought, but okay for something different.

"So how's the cricket, Dad?" Hermione asked.

"It's going good, Roc," Charles replied. "Three for fifty seven. We made four hundred and six to their three hundred and seventy six so they have to chase us. They batted first, but if we have as good a second innings as the first, hopefully we'll win. With any luck their middle order will collapse... Draco, would you like to come and watch?" Charles asked.

"Maybe later," Draco replied, noncommittally.

"Sounds good to me, the live feed starts up again at 6:30, I'll save you a seat," Charles promised. He picked up his glass and drained it before placing it on the sink. He left the room. The three remaining sat in silence for a little while, finishing their drinks. A ringing bell-noise came from the hallway and Victoria excused herself from the room. It left Hermione and Draco sitting opposite each other at the table.

The pair looked around the room, anywhere but at each other. Finally Draco could not stand it any longer. "What is your Dad talking about? Why does he find crickets so fascinating? This drink really isn't going to ruin my teeth is it? Has your Mum never seen that much magic all at once? Why are you all being so nice to me? Why do your Mum and Dad call you 'Roc'?" The questions burst from his lips in a rush.

"And you think I'm bad?" Hermione commented when the barrage of questions finally seemed to come to a halt. "I'll do my best. Cricket is a sport, not the insect. Dad was telling me the score. To him, cricket is the equivalent of Quidditch to you. He lives and breathes it. When we have people stay, he always likes it if it's a boy. He will convert you to love the sport, he has not failed yet with any of the students or kids we've ever had here. He even has old video highlights and stuff.

"The drink really won't harm your teeth at all in the quantity you drank. Believe me, if it would, there is no way my parents would have had any themselves and they wouldn't have let us within six feet of the stuff. Dad just likes to preach about it. His worst complaint about his patients is the amount of soft drink they consume. What was next?" Hermione paused while she tried to remember all of Draco's questions.

"No, Mum has never seen that much magic. I haven't been allowed to show her anything before, and she always thought it was impolite to ask another witch or wizard to demonstrate. We're being nice because we are nice. I don't think you would want to live in a house with mean people. And you are being nice too, well, nicer than I've ever seen, and Professor Dumbledore asked us to give you a chance. Unless you do something to deserve it, I don't see why we would stop being nice to you all of a sudden.

"Finally, I'm called 'Roc' because when I was a baby and learned to crawl, my Grandfather said I rocketed around so fast, no one could catch me. The nickname 'Rocket' stuck, and over the years it was shortened to 'Roc'. You actually won't find many people in the Muggle world who call me Hermione. Is all that enough information?" Hermione asked.

Draco stared at her incredulously. "You remembered all that?" he asked in astonishment.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It wasn't rocket science," she commented.

Draco decided he didn't want to know what 'rocket science' was. He wondered if it had anything to do with her 'rocketing' around as a baby – he didn't quite get the analogy. He decided to go and see about this 'cricket'. Sport was sport, and he thought he might have pushed the boundaries as far as possible in spending time with Hermione (he mentally grinned, he didn't even have to correct himself that time). It was given he would be spending a lot of time with her in the next three weeks. For now, he would go and learn about this new activity...

.

_A/N: I borrowed the explanation Dumbledore gave about Draco's childhood lessons on Muggles from my own story, __Lily Potter's Biggest Secret__. If you recognise it, that's where it has come from and I got permission from myself to use it :)_

_Thank you for reading. Please review._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: __Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters, situations or locations you recognise are the property of these individuals and corporations. No money is made from the writing of this story._

_Thanks to LadyStiff for cheerleading and to TycheSong for her fabulous beta work._

_THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, alerted and read this story. I hope you are enjoying it._

_._

**Chapter 3**

The first week passed rather quickly.

Hermione was everything and yet _nothing_ like Draco thought. Yes, he expected her to nag about schoolwork, but he did not expect her to say it was so they could get it all out of the way and have fun. Yes, he expected her to be a know-it-all about everything, but he did not expect the patience she showed in teaching him how to work the Muggle appliances throughout the house. Yes, he expected her to bleat on and on about her friends, but he did not expect her to be critical of them like she was. He certainly did not expect this normally serious, studious girl to have such a carefree, bubbly attitude outside of school. The interactions he had observed with her and her parents were nothing short of revolutionary. Despite his initial misgivings with this whole plan, he was actually starting to feel comfortable now.

Hermione was feeling exactly the same way. She had spent the first few days on tenterhooks, waiting for Draco's control to break and for him to unleash a tirade of pure-blood rhetoric toward her and her parents. Nothing had eventuated though, and she could see now that he was keeping his promise. She was surprised how quickly he seemed to have bonded with her father. They had spent days four and five of the cricket test glued to the television screen, Draco having absorbed the knowledge from Charles about the sport very quickly. He had even given her a run-down of the last day of the test – which had resulted in a draw, much to the disgust of Charles and Draco – while they had studied the day before.

Hermione was also surprised that Draco had buckled down with her and completed all his holiday assignments. She even read over them, impressed by what she saw. There was only one suggestion she could make for him to improve his Charms essay, otherwise his work was as detailed as her own. It was more succinct, too, she had thought jealously. One thing she had never mastered was learning how to condense her thoughts. She ended up writing long-winded paragraphs, where one or two sentences would have sufficed. She knew she was getting better at this, she hoped to have perfected it by the time she left school. It still rankled to see her rival had managed it though.

Draco also had the pleasure of participating in his first tree decorating. He laughed as Charles brow-beat Hermione into using magic to retrieve the decorations from the attic. She protested at using magic to procure a tree, something about too many Muggles being about. Charles had shouldered a large axe and handed a small hatchet to Draco, before he drove the two of them out to a forest which sold Christmas trees – as long as you cut them down yourself. On their trek into the snow-covered grove, Charles explained exactly what they needed to find. It was a point of honour for him to be able to go home each year with a perfect specimen of tree. He had never missed yet.

Sure enough, upon their return to the fire-warmed house, with fresh shortbread, mince pies and mulled wine waiting for them, Hermione and Victoria were quite pleased with the result of their outing. Charles and Draco then sat on the sofa, feasting on the Christmas fare and jokingly instructing exactly where each bauble should be hung, and each length of tinsel should be draped.

Presents had been shopped for and wrapped, and were placed under the tree ready for Christmas morning. All-in-all, it had actually been a very pleasant week so far. There had only been one incident to mar the pleasantness of it all—a combined cultural and history lesson for Draco as it had turned out...

Hermione and Draco were sprawled in chairs watching an action movie. Hermione had been quite solicitous so far in her choices of their movie-viewing. She was enjoying Draco's company, surprisingly, even though they did not talk much, and she knew the surest way to get him to hole up in his room was to put on a chick-flick. She had kept it to action-comedies, parodies and some Hollywood classics so far. She had been surprised to see he enjoyed the Shakespeare films—especially the old Olivier ones. Today though, they were watching '_True Lies_'—one of her father's favourites. Draco was quite enjoying the special effects, disbelieving when Hermione told him that no magic was involved in getting them to the screen.

The telephone rang in the hallway and Hermione excused herself to answer it. Draco was perplexed by the sound. He did not understand why the Grangers all seemed to jump at the ringing. One of them would always excuse themselves at the sound, then return an indeterminate amount of time later and say something odd like, "_That was Grampy, he said hi and he'll arrive by seven on Christmas morning_," or, "_Kelly wants Mum to call her when she gets home_," or, "_Charles will be late home, an emergency just came in_." It was the sort of information you would get from an owl, but none ever appeared. He did not want to ask about it just yet, he was still getting his head around the microwave, the dishwasher and the video player.

This time though, he could hear her in the hallway:

"Hello?"

"Oh hi! You're home!"

"Same as usual really, tons of homework, Harry and Ron driving me insane, food completely naff..."

"Hahaha, yes I'm sure it's the same in every boarding school..."

"Yes, we have someone staying with us... A boy from my school actually... No... No... Yes... NO!"

"Okay, that sounds like fun... Next week, maybe?... Yes, if he wants to... I seriously doubt it... Kim and Marigold, too?... Okay, see you then... Bye!"

'_Nutters_!' Draco thought. '_Did she think she was talking to someone? There's no fireplace out there_.'

Hermione returned to the sitting room and flopped back down into the chair as though nothing had happened, riveting her attention on the gun fight going on on-screen.

"Hermione?" Draco asked tentatively.

"Hmm?" she replied absently, scoffing as Arnold Schwarzenegger rode a horse through the lobby of a hotel and into a lift.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, why?"

"You do realise you were talking to yourself just then, don't you?"

"I was talking to my friend, Sarah," she said.

"I didn't hear anyone else talking," Draco said.

"She was on the other end," Hermione said, turning to face him. "Of course you wouldn't be able to hear her."

"The other end of what?" he asked.

"The telephone," Hermione replied, as though that answered everything. Draco continued to look at her blankly. Hermione sighed and pressed the pause button on the remote. "Come with me," she instructed. She stood and walked out to the hallway, Draco following closely behind. Hermione looked at the ornate Grandfather clock at the base of the stairs. "Oh good, they'll be at lunch," she muttered.

She indicated a machine sitting innocuously on a built-in shelf under the stairs. There was a built-in seat right next to it. Draco had noticed the seat, of course, but had paid it no mind. "This is a telephone. Muggles use them to communicate with each other over long distances," she explained. "Each phone has its own identifying number. You pick up the handset," she paused and removed an odd-shaped piece of the machine. It was still joined by a twisty cord. "And punch in the number of the phone you want to ring." She pressed a set of numbers into the phone and waited.

"Hi Kelly, it's Roc. How are you?... I'm fine thanks. Is it busy?... Oh that's good. Is Mum available? Or Dad, it doesn't really matter... Okay, thanks. Talk to you soon... You too." There was a long pause. Draco had heard an indistinct voice come out of the part of the piece Hermione was holding next to her ear. He was fascinated. Now he could hear music. Hermione was humming along with it.

"Hi Mum... We're fine, Draco has never seen the phone be used and he was curious... sure," Hermione handed the piece of the telephone she was holding to Draco. "Hold it like I was so your mouth is next to this end, and your ear next to this end," she instructed, indicating clearly what he was to do.

"Hello?" Victoria's voice came through the handset clearly. Draco jumped. Hermione stifled her giggles.

"H-hello?" he said tentatively back.

"How are you, Draco?" she asked.

"Um, fine. Can you hear me okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, you are doing much better than Roc's friend Ronald. He felt the need to shout down the phone as if he were trying to _actually_ be heard from Devonshire. I pitied the poor people in the vicinity." Despite himself, Draco laughed at this. Any opportunity to hear of the Weasel's ineptitude was good in his books, especially when his own conduct was compared favourably. "So, what are you and Roc up to?" Victoria asked.

"We're watching a movie. I can't remember the name of it," Draco replied. '_True Lies'_ Hermione said in the background. "True Lies," Draco repeated.

"Completely nonsensical, that movie," Victoria criticised. "How on earth a secret agent can get away with that much murder and mayhem and still not be exposed is beyond me. Tell Roc that you want to watch James Bond. Start with '_Dr No'_ and work your way through them to '_Goldeneye_'. Charles has them all on video. Those are the classic spy thrillers."

Draco nodded, a bemused look on his face. "She can't see you," Hermione hissed to him.

"Okay, um sounds good, I think," Draco said hastily. "Here's Hermione again." He thrust the receiver back to the witch. He faintly heard, 'Bye Draco,' through the earpiece and called a farewell of his own back before Hermione put the handset back to her ear.

"Hi, Mum, it's me again... Yes, I suppose... No, never... Well I'd never seen anyone talking through a fireplace before a couple of years ago; he would think the same about me... Really? James Bond? You know I don't really like... Okay... Okay... _Okay_, Mum! I know you like James Bond the best... Oh, Sarah called and asked if we can go out next week... Ice skating... Yes, that's why I said _we_... Kim and Marigold... Probably... If she's going out with someone then yes, I guess so... Okay... Yes... Yes... Cut up potatoes and pumpkin... Ooh, yummy!... Okay... Yes... I love you, too. Say hi to Dad...Bye."

Draco watched as Hermione replaced the receiver back together with the machine. "And that is a phone call," she told him. "If you took Muggle Studies, you would have been able to earn points when you got back to school."

"And how would I have admitted in front of everyone that I had had the opportunity to use one?" Draco asked with a little eyebrow tilt.

"Good point," Hermione replied easily.

"So is it a Muggle thing to just know each number?" Draco asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You said each phone has its own number. If all the Muggles have one, do you just know every number automatically?"

Hermione laughed. "No, that's impossible, really, _really_ impossible. You need this," she replied as she opened a cabinet under the built-in seat. From there she extracted a two-inch thick book. Draco's eyes widened slightly at the sight of it. "This is a telephone book. It lists everyone's numbers. Each household gets four of them a year," she said, indicating the other three books neatly stacked in the cupboard. "You only remember the numbers you always use."

"Right, that makes sense. Mother has a little notebook next to our fireplace for some of Father's contacts, otherwise you just call out the name of the person or house you want," Draco said. He flipped through a few pages of the telephone book, marvelling at the thinness of the pages and the tiny print squashed onto each page. "How many numbers are in here?" he asked incredulously.

"Millions," Hermione replied with a shrug. She took the book from him and replaced it in the cupboard. "Do you want a drink?" she called as she entered the kitchen.

"Mmm," Draco replied absently. '_Millions?_' he thought with disbelief. '_Surely she didn't mean that. Millions! How is that even possible?_' He mechanically walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Hermione had turned slightly when he entered, so knew he was there.

"Lunch?" she asked.

"Mmm," Draco replied again, still lost in thought. '_Why would there be millions of numbers? There aren't that many people in England_,' he mused. '_Those books must be for the whole world_,' he concluded. "Isn't it pretty intrusive for everyone to get a book that says where you live and what your number is?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's why we have a private number. Mum and Dad pay extra each quarter so our name is not printed in the book. Their practice is listed, obviously, but they don't want calls day and night from people with a tiny toothache. I don't think you'd find many doctors having their home numbers listed," Hermione commented.

"So, that book could be even bigger?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Hermione replied. She continued to cut up various salad items for their sandwiches.

Draco remained seated at the table, completely lost in thought. '_Why would you need the numbers for people in other countries? How often would you have to use the telephone for them?_' "Hermione," he began tentatively, "how many people do you know in other countries?"

Hermione looked up from her preparations, an extremely confused expression on her face. "What an odd question," she commented. "I don't know, twenty or less," she guessed. She knew Viktor and some of his family members, as well as some of the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang that she had become acquainted with during the Tri-Wizard tournament. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wondered why you would need a book that listed everyone in the world when you only know twenty people outside the country," Draco commented.

Hermione looked at him, her eyebrows raised in disbelief. "The book doesn't have everyone in the world listed in it! That's impossible! The books we have are only for southern England! Every country in the world has their own books, usually several! You couldn't get all the people in the world into one set of books..." Hermione trailed off as she began to contemplate the sheer mathematics behind such a feat. "There are billions of people in the world with phones, add to that the businesses and now the mobiles... my God, it is completely unfathomable!"

From all of Hermione's ramblings, Draco had only picked out one word. "Billions?" he repeated.

"Yes billions," Hermione confirmed in confusion.

"There aren't billions of people in the world, Hermione," Draco scoffed.

"Yes there is, Draco," she said, matching his tone perfectly.

"It's impossible," Draco stated categorically. "The Dark Lord was very clear. He is going for world domination, and wants to either kill or enslave all the Muggles. He would never be able to impose his will on that many people."

"No he wouldn't," Hermione said gently. By now she had sensed that Draco was about to experience another paradigm shift in his view of the world. He had obviously already gone through enough of one to change his allegiance from Voldemort to the Order. She felt a bit sorry for him, but learning hard truths was part of life.

"As much as a victory by him would be totally devastating for our world, if he tried to impose his will on the Muggle population, it would signal the end of magical Britain completely. The Muggles would absolutely decimate the remaining population—probably in other countries as well. That is one of the reasons I am fighting—for the future of my family, and of the magical world as a whole."

"The Muggles could decimate us?" Draco asked.

"Come with me," Hermione said, walking back in the direction of the sitting room. She pressed a button on the video player and waited. After a few minutes, she hit the play button again. Draco looked at the movie as the spy guy kissed his wife. A bright light, one that had all the actors shading their eyes, brighter than anything Draco had seen filled the screen. The camera pulled away to reveal a funny shaped cloud rising in the distance. There was something advancing toward them at a massive speed. Draco recoiled slightly at its approach. It was revealed to be nothing more than a wind, a strong one, but a wind. He relaxed, unsure what it was exactly that Hermione was showing him. She pressed the rewind button, and set the picture to slow motion, starting again at the kiss.

"This is a nuclear explosion. Obviously this one wasn't real, but there have been ones that are. The bright light is the first sign. Anyone who looks at it directly will go blind. That is why everyone has their eyes covered. Second is the mushroom cloud. That is the result of the bomb exploding and the reaction that is triggered. The wind and the cloud are part of the energy released by the bomb. Where they are standing is the minimum safe distance from the explosion site. If you are caught inside that area, you will likely die. You can't hide from it, and you can't shield yourself from it with magic. If the initial blast doesn't get you, radiation poisoning probably will. You could also suffer massive burns." Hermione stopped her narration, sparing a quick glance at Draco, who was entranced by what he was watching on the screen accompanied by her words.

Hermione moved toward a bookshelf, running her finger along it until she located a book which she removed from the shelf. After checking something, she immediately grabbed another book and flipped some pages. "These bombs have been used in war twice before in history, within a few days of each other. The use of them brought an entire world war to its end." Hermione placed the book in Draco's hands and he looked down. He could see a picture of a similar cloud, another of a flat landscape with just a few buildings, one of a city, and many pictures of people, obviously suffering and with confusion going on around them.

"This is Hiroshima in Japan," Hermione said, pointing at the picture of the city. "This is Hiroshima after they dropped the bomb," she continued, pointing at the ruined landscape. "It took only a few minutes for this to happen."

Draco dropped the book to the floor in his shock and collapsed onto the sofa. "W-what happened to all the people?" he asked thickly.

"Just as I said, they died, were burned, got radiation poisoning... some survived, but no one ever forgot. Dad has some documentaries I think."

"H-how many p-people died?" he stuttered.

Hermione picked up the book Draco had dropped and read for a few seconds. "Eighty thousand initially, they think up to another sixty thousand died as a result. Since then, they have made improvements to the weaponry, and have significantly increased its power. If a bomb was dropped on London today, it would instantly kill about three million people with another two million succumbing from their injuries in the following days and months, even years. They reckon there are enough of these bombs on earth to kill every human being.

"Fear is a powerful thing. If the Muggles are fearful enough, the ones in power will use these bombs to wipe out the magical world, taking a lot of the Muggle population along with them. This is why I fight against Voldemort, to stop him from coming to power." Hermione gently squeezed Draco's shoulder and left him with his thoughts, returning to the kitchen to finish making their lunch.

Draco sat there for most of the afternoon. Reading the book Hermione had given him over, and over. He retrieved other books on the subject from the shelves, and watched a documentary that Hermione put on for him.

He never knew Muggles were capable of this. He had heard of Muggle wars – fought with arrows, swords and clubs. But all this? Guns, bombs, cannon... ships built purely for battle, airplanes that were not built to carry people, but bombs and guns, and vehicles designed to be completely destructive, so big as to cause as much damage as a giant. Hermione tried to help him as much as she could, almost gratefully turning the conversation over to Charles when he returned home that evening. Victoria and Hermione left the two males alone, and Draco learned what it was to be really scared of what might happen should the Dark Lord prevail. He reaffirmed his commitment to Dumbledore's cause – now that he knew what was truly at stake.

.

_Please feel free to leave a review; I would love to know what you think._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: __Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Any characters, situations or locations you recognise are the property of these individuals and corporations. No money is made from the writing of this story._

_Thanks to LadyStiff for cheerleading and to TycheSong for her fabulous beta work._

_THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed, favourited, alerted and read this story. I hope you are enjoying it._

.

**Chapter 4**

Christmas had been a quiet, family affair. Hermione's grandfather, Charles' father, had arrived early in the day, in time for presents. Hermione had knelt on the floor next to the tree and handed out gifts to everyone. Draco had been pleasantly surprised to receive gifts from Hermione, Charles and Victoria, even Grampy, as he had been instructed to call the elder Granger, had given him a tin of biscuits and a history book about World War II. His son had explained Draco's new interest in learning about the war.

William Granger had fought first in North Africa, and then been part of the D-Day Invasion during the war. He had seen the horrors inflicted by the Nazis first-hand, and felt it part of his continuing duty to ensure that no one ever forgot what had been perpetrated during that time. He had been part of the force that had liberated the Nazi Concentration Camp of Bergen-Belsen. What he had seen there haunted his dreams to this day. This was his motivation, once he was discharged from the Army, to read history at Oxford and go on to become a history professor. He still spoke at schools and societies about his experiences, and would continue to do so until he was physically incapable of it.

Draco had also presented gifts to the Granger family. For the first time in his life he had actually put some thought behind them. He had bought Charles a complete set of cricket history books that had been advertised on the television. Victoria received a teapot to replace one from her set that had been broken many years before. He had heard her complain that she should have kept the pieces for Hermione to repair. One day, the previous week, he had been dragged to a local antique fair by Hermione and seen the teapot there. After confirming with Hermione that it was the correct one, he had purchased it. He gave Hermione a charm bracelet he had seen at the same fair. It had caught his eye because it had a single charm of a book on it. Professor Dumbledore had stopped in two days prior to drop off presents for Draco from his mother, along with a long letter, and he had been more than happy to briefly pop out to Diagon Alley and purchase two more charms on Draco's behalf – a small cauldron and a dragon figurine. He figured Hermione could buy more charms as she found them.

The letter from his mother informed Draco that she was safe and well in her undisclosed location. She too had had several hard truths brought home to her, and was grateful her only son had had the courage to go to Dumbledore and beg for mercy. She resolved to support him in any way she could and promised that his father would also support his decision. Lucius Malfoy had had no desire to return to Lord Voldemort's service upon his revival, but had been presented with little choice. If he wanted his family to survive, then he must. Once he realised they were safe, she knew Lucius would wait out the war and provide information where necessary.

Grampy stayed at the Grangers' up until New Year's Day. He had taken the revelation of Hermione's (and Draco's for that matter) magic in his stride. Now that she was seventeen, she was allowed to disclose the information to her wider family. Grampy had told them with a bit of wonder in his voice about his grandmother, who would regale him with tales of dragons, giants, mermaids and centaurs. She would tell him and his cousins stories about a magic castle where everyone learned spells, enchantments and potions and flew around on broomsticks. Not once did he ever think any of it was real! Hermione was quite excited to learn this—it meant she had magical ancestors!

Particularly moving was the story Grampy told about a cousin of his who had disappeared at age eleven. There had always been whispers about the young boy; that strange things happened around him. The adults all dismissed questions about him, simply saying he had gone away, and would not be returning. As Grampy had grown up, he realised—or so he thought—that 'gone away' was a euphemism for his cousin dying. Now though, "Do either of you know a man named Peter Vector?"

Hermione rushed to inform him that she did not know of this man, but one of her favourite professors was Septima Vector. Perhaps they were related? Hermione was very excited to go back to school and find out. Draco was pleased for his new—_friend?_—that she may have living relatives, albeit distant ones, in the magical world.

The six days between Christmas and New Year were filled with outings, visitors, family dinners and another cricket test, this one being broadcast from Australia! Draco, Charles and William were encamped in the sitting room late into the nights hoping that the dominance of the Australian team in world cricket could be broken for once. They were jubilant when the West Indies triumphed. Draco also sat with Grampy, discussing World War II and the parallels between it and the upcoming war with Voldemort. Draco diligently read his book and was often quite pensive.

After Grampy's departure, three days before they were scheduled to return to Hogwarts, Draco was in a particularly preoccupied mood. After the totally unexpected pleasant time she had had with him these holidays, Hermione hated to see her friend (yes, _friend_) so down. She got on the phone with her friend Sarah and organised another ice skating trip. There was a frozen pond about a mile from the house where the locals ice skated during the winter. Hermione persuaded Draco to come along, promising that there would be other boys this time.

When they had gone last week, there had only been Draco with four girls. Not that he didn't enjoy the jealous looks he was getting from several other teenage boys at the pond when it was determined he was there with four very pretty girls, but the conversation had left quite a bit to be desired. Draco would never have thought _Hermione_ would be one to gush about boy bands, and cute actors while discussing the latest fashions and fads.

Hermione had dismissed his observations on the way home.

"_You don't think I'm serious enough at school for nine months of the year? I hang around with boys! It's nice to be able to let my hair down and be a girl when I'm at home," Hermione said._

"_If you were more of a girl while you were at school, maybe Weasel-King would be snogging your face off instead of that tart he's with now," Draco observed._

"_Don't call him that," Hermione automatically admonished. "And who's to say I want Ron to be snogging my face off? Maybe I want someone else entirely," she said._

_Draco knew she was lying. He stopped in the middle of the footpath and waited for Hermione to turn toward him. When she did, he grabbed her face and planted a hard kiss right on her mouth. She was shell-shocked._

"_So, not me then," Draco quipped. He began to walk away, leaving Hermione spluttering in his wake. She hurried to catch up to him._

"_What the hell was that?" she demanded shrilly._

"_That was me seeing if you were happy to have someone else snog your face off," Draco replied._

"_That was not snogging! And even if it was, who says that 'someone' has to be you?" she asked._

"_Okay, I admit that snogging is a bit different to that, but why couldn't I be 'someone'? You and Weasley are not suited to one another; I don't know why you like him so much. In all the years you've been friends, I have only once seen him defend you. I might have spent the last five years calling you... that... but I know he's insulted you a lot as well. Maybe he hasn't used the m-word, but I've seen how his words hurt you all the same. If you just sit there and take it, what makes you think he won't continue to act that way, knowing you'll forgive him? In twenty years, you'd be a miserable housewife with a passel of red-headed kids at your feet, all gorging as though they were on their last meal and arguing over quidditch scores!" Draco was panting slightly when he got to the end of his rant. He noticed Hermione staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. _

_Hermione was speechless for a few moments. She began to walk a few steps, Draco trailing behind her before she found her voice again. "I... I know he insults me. I know he says stuff without thinking. But he is still only sixteen, not many sixteen year-olds have a filtering system. I know that one day, he will grow up and out of this and then he will be what I need; he will become the man I want him to be."_

"_Are you listening to yourself, Hermione?" Draco asked incredulously. "Why are you wasting your time waiting for him to become someone he clearly isn't? Why would you _want_ him to be someone he isn't? You are just setting both of you up for lives of misery! He will never be able to meet your high standards, and he will be miserable because of it! I mean, I don't like the guy at all, but you can't do that to him, or yourself."_

"_But... I... He..." Hermione spluttered. She stopped and sat down on the kerb. Was Draco right? Was she hoping in vain for a dream that starred an ideal version of her friend, rather than a realistic one? Yes, Ron did insult her all the time and knock down her ideas, and try to turn Harry against her. As she catalogued incidents in her head, she realised more and more, that while Ron was a good friend (and he _was_, despite his behaviour sometimes), as a potential life partner, he did leave a lot to be desired. A feeling of emptiness welled up inside Hermione and tears started to roll down her cheeks as Draco took a seat beside her. She took the handkerchief he held out to her._

"_I didn't mean to make you cry, Hermione," he said softly. "I just don't understand why you're making life plans when you're only seventeen. There are a lot of people to meet out there."_

"_But who knows what's going to happen with the war," Hermione sniffed._

"_That's all the more reason for you to live your life in the moment. If the worst happens sooner, rather than later, do you really want to be looking back on your life and realising you spent most of your teenage years pining over Weasley?" Draco asked._

_Hermione let out a wet chuckle at his question. When it was put like that... "What do you suggest?" she asked. _

"_Live," Draco said simply. "Snog a guy you like, or a girl, who cares? Read all the books you want, help Potter save the world... make new friends. Do what _you_ want to do, not what people are expecting you to do. I gave up the expectations, and look at me... I am freer now than I have ever been my whole life!"_

_Hermione turned her head and locked eyes with Draco. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "You've given me a lot to think about." She leant across and gave him a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips. Draco barely puckered in response, knowing that this was a gesture from a friend, nothing more. He smiled and stood up, offering a hand to help her stand._

"_Come on," he said. "Grampy is going to tell me another war story." Hermione rolled her eyes good naturedly. Between cricket and World War II, Draco was the perfect foster son for the Granger men to host._

After the telling of that war story, Draco had become pensive and withdrawn. He still participated in family activities, but he was very quiet, only offering one-word answers and rarely smiling. Victoria finally decided enough was enough and encouraged Hermione to take Draco out for the evening, just two young friends spending some time together. That was when Hermione got on the phone to Sarah and practically dragged Draco out of the house.

They met up with Sarah, Kim and Marigold at the pond. This time they were accompanied by Kim's cousins, Stephen and Daniel. They were twins, the same age as Draco. Hermione was relieved to see Draco come out of his shell a little bit with the boys, the three bonding over a mutual love of cricket. They re-hashed the test from the previous weeks between England and Zimbabwe, Draco able to regurgitate the comments made by Charles in order to fit in. The twins were also impressed that Draco had watched the Australian test as well—they thought that showed true dedication to the sport.

The seven teenagers had a fun evening, skating for a couple of hours before adjourning to a nearby Indian restaurant for a banquet special. It was on the walk home that Draco began to sink into his pensive mood once more.

"At least you're not sullen," Hermione commented with exasperation.

"Hmm?" Draco asked absently.

"You've been in a bad mood since Grampy left! I miss him too, but there's no need to be this upset about it, I'm sure we can arrange for you to see him again," Hermione said.

"I'm just thinking about things," Draco replied in the same absent tone.

"What things? Can I help at all?" Hermione asked.

"It's too dangerous," Draco replied.

Hermione scoffed. "Talk to me about danger after you've faced a troll, a three-headed dog, a basilisk, a werewolf, a group of Death Eaters _and_ survived them all," she retorted.

Draco looked at her speculatively. She was right, for all her slightness and femininity, she had faced dangerous situations that fully grown and fully trained witches and wizards would balk at. Dumbledore had preached to him about trusting people—but still treading the fine line of believing _who_ he could trust. He knew Hermione had taken a personal risk inviting him into her home with barely a fight, and had dedicated herself fully to becoming his friend, just as Dumbledore hoped she would. If he could not trust Hermione, then who could he trust?

"Two things are bothering me. The first is pretty minor, _if_ the information is acted on. I told the Headmaster at the time, but both he and I didn't think it was important." Draco took a breath, "If the Death Eaters manage to take the Ministry, they will be setting up camps for the Muggleborns," he said.

"Camps?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I think like the ones in the books, the ones like Bergen-Belsen that Grampy helped liberate," Draco said softly.

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth. "Concentration camps, like the Nazis?" she asked fearfully.

Draco nodded. "And I reckon they would be just as bad," he predicted.

"You definitely have to tell Professor Dumbledore about this," Hermione said.

"I will. The other problem is something I have to do, or something I have to pretend to do," Draco said sadly.

"What?" Hermione asked after Draco had been silent for several minutes.

"I have to kill the Headmaster," Draco confessed.

"WHAT? No, you can't... what do you... After everything he's done for you, you are going to kill him?" Hermione shrieked. She looked at Draco as though he had betrayed her. The look was something he never wanted to see on her face again. He hastened to explain.

"No, no, it's a plan that he came up with. You've seen his hand; he says he's dying anyway. He wants me to pretend to kill him, or if he's already at death's door, kill him on his terms, so the Death Eaters will think I'm still on their side, but Mother and Father will still be safe. If Dumbledore is still going strong, he's going to fake his death so he can control things from a remote location. If not, then he wants his death to be for the Greater Good, and not dying quietly in his sleep one night."

"Draco, are you already a Death Eater?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked sadly into her eyes. "Yes," he admitted. He began to roll up his sleeve, but Hermione stopped him. "I don't believe in any of it anymore," he said, his eyes imploring her to believe him. "I just want the Dark Lord to be finished, and I have committed myself to doing whatever it takes to stop him. Hell, I'll scream from the rooftops that Potter is my one-and-only if I think it will help." Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Hermione giggled at the mental image—and that of Harry's expression if he found out!

"I believe you," Hermione said sincerely. "And I will help you, if you ask me too," she promised.

She looked deeply into Draco's eyes, and sealed her promise by leaning forward and gently pressing her lips against his own. The kiss they shared was not passionate, or chaste, but a promise between two friends that they would be there for each other, for whatever reason was needed.

Draco sighed and rested his forehead against Hermione's when they separated. "You know we can't openly be friends back at school," he cautioned. "It would be too dangerous, for both of us."

Hermione nodded regretfully. "I know," she said. She fished into her bag and pulled out two galleon coins. She charmed them with a Protean Charm, and handed one to Draco. "If you need me for anything, you can contact me using this coin," she said. She quickly instructed him in how to use it, and charmed a small D/H onto her coin so she would not confuse it with her DA coin.

Draco slipped it into his pocket with a smile. "Thanks, I'm sure this will come in handy, Roc" he said. Hermione gave him a blinding smile at the use of her nickname.

The pair resumed their walk back home, resolving to spend the final days of their brief respite from the Wizarding world immersed in Muggle culture. A three-day James Bond marathon sounded good.

.

Platform 9¾ was buzzing on January 4th with returning students. Victoria and Charles had stopped with Hermione and Draco at the door to King's Cross Station, saying quick goodbyes to Draco and sending him toward Professor Snape whom they could see in the distance waiting. The three Grangers strolled to platform 10, as though they had no cares in the world, saying a long goodbye in front of the barrier. Hermione gave one last wave to her parents before running through the brick wall. She quickly stowed her trunk and hoisted Crookshanks' carrier in her hand. She began to walk toward the large group of redheads and one brunette she could see standing near the middle of the carriages.

Harry broke from the group as soon as he spotted Hermione walking toward them, grabbing her in a jubilant hug and swinging her around. She laughed at his behaviour, praising him when he reminded her he had faithfully written every four days as requested.

"Although two lines stating, _'Dear Hermione, How are you? I'm fine. Weather's crap, playing Quidditch today, Weasleys say Hi. Love, Harry'_ wasn't quite what I meant," Hermione said.

"Eh, there wasn't anything else to say, really," Harry said. "Did you have a good holiday?" he asked.

"Yes, I did, surprisingly."

"Oh?" Harry's friendly, open face suddenly turned dark. Hermione swung around to see what had caused his expression to change. She saw Draco climbing onboard the Express, staring in their direction, sneer firmly in place once more. Her own face started to fall before she caught it, knowing he was playing his role now, and it was up to her to play hers.

"Still on this, Harry?" she asked with exasperation, just as she had at the beginning of the holiday.

"He's up to something," Harry persisted. "I just know it."

"Sure, Harry, he is evil personified and he is going to blow up the entire school," Hermione said sarcastically.

"I'm glad you agree," Harry said, deliberately misreading her tone. Hermione turned from him with a small shake of her head and went to greet the Weasleys. She could tell this was going to be a long train ride, and an even longer few months until the end of the school year...

.

Just the epilogue to go... How did Draco's defection change things? Stay tuned to find out tomorrow...

Please review :)


	5. Epilogue

_Disclaimer – Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling et al. Anything you recognise is the intellectual property of these individuals and corporations. I am making no money from the writing of this story._

_._

_Ten Years Later..._

"HOWZAT!" three male voices screamed from the sitting room, followed a few seconds later by a high pitched voice yelling, "UZAH!" in imitation.

"Tell me again, why should he be out if his leg blocks the wicket? Surely that would be the point, to stop the ball going through," a fourth, cultured, male voice could be heard querying.

"The point is to hit the ball, Father, and if you can't hit it, then it deserves to go against the wicket. Besides, we need every advantage we can get over the Aussies. They're still sore that we took the Ashes from them, they're going all out to decimate us this series," an identical, although younger sounding voice replied.

"They've already taken them back," Grampy groused from his chair. "You'd think they might take some pity on the lads instead of destroying them."

"Cricket, you'd think that we could go at least one year without those three glued to that set," Victoria complained from the dining room table. Three ladies were sitting around it after enjoying lunch. "Now they're trying to corrupt Lucius and Will as well."

"Will is already corrupted," Hermione informed her mother. "Surely you realised that when he walked around all day yesterday dragging that plastic cricket bat behind him." She was absently playing with a charm bracelet on her wrist, fingering the charms as she spoke. There was a book, a cauldron, a dragon figurine, a coin, a love heart, the entwined letters D and H, a letter W, a cup and a crown shape. It was the closest thing to a diadem her husband could find.

"I am just grateful you had the presence of mind to cast a cushioning spell on it, Hermione," Narcissa Malfoy praised her daughter-in-law. "Goodness only knows what sort of destruction a two-year-old could have wrought swinging that thing around."

Hermione merely smiled in response and went to stand in the doorway of the sitting room, looking in at her father and father-in-law sitting companionably on the couch, Charles once again patiently explaining a finer point of the game. His daughter's father-in-law was his toughest customer yet, but Charles had never failed to convert a man to cricket, and he was not about to start with Lucius Malfoy. Hermione smiled fondly at her husband sprawled in an armchair, their son comfortably tucked in his lap, the ever-present cricket bat being twirled around in front of them.

The sitting room looked as it did every year, the perfect tree in the corner that Charles and Draco had gone out to buy and select, taking Will with them for the first time this year. Hermione had fretted until they were safely back in the house. There were many cards lined up on the mantle, Hermione smiled at the one she knew to be from Professor Vector, the Arithmancy professor's father had indeed been the cousin of her Grampy. Hermione thought back to that particular Christmas, the first Draco had spent with them, and all that followed.

Ten years ago, by the end of the school year, Professor Snape had developed a potion that stopped the poison in Professor Dumbledore's hand from spreading further. That fateful night on the Astronomy Tower, Draco balked at killing Dumbledore in front of the other Death Eaters, unable to even pretend to perform the act, so Severus Snape 'killed' him instead. Dumbledore went into hiding and directed the Order from the shadows, aiding Harry, Hermione and Ron where possible.

Hermione had seen more and more after the return from the Christmas break how Ron was not suited for her. She gave up on her crush for him, even going on some friendly dates with other boys in their year and the one above. She had to sit Ron down one day when his jealousy threatened to blow over and A, remind him that he had a girlfriend and B, lay out the reasons why the two of them would never work out as a couple. Ron was made to see the light just as she had and they remained good friends.

Draco had spoken with Dumbledore about his fears regarding the camps that were planned to be set up. In one of his last acts as Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot, Dumbledore proposed and passed several laws that were so complex in their composition, it would be near impossible for anyone to unravel them enough to set the camps up. As they would need the approval of the Wizengamot, and the body had procedures in place to ensure that the high court could not circumvent its own laws, the camps as they had been intended were unable to go ahead. The Muggleborn Registration Commission still came into force, but the Muggleborns were only able to be exiled to Ireland, where members of an underground movement, headed by William, Charles and Victoria Granger, were waiting for them.

Draco and Hermione kept in touch constantly through the use of the coins. When the trio had been captured by Snatchers while on the run, Hermione had been able to get a message to Draco that they were on the way. He in turn notified Dumbledore and Snape so a rescue was affected moments after they had arrived at the Manor. Draco had 'taken over' the Malfoy mansion in the absence of his parents, and was deep undercover within the inner circle along with Snape. Draco had been praised by Voldemort for not capitulating and defecting as his parents had, and was spared any of the harsher punishments in the face of his cooperation in aiding the Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts, and handing over the Manor as a headquarters – not that he had a choice.

On the day of the final battle, Draco and his two goons had confronted Harry, Ron and Hermione in the Room of Requirement. Harry and Ron had been astonished when they saw Draco turn on his two friends and stun and bind them securely before assisting them in searching for Ravenclaw's Diadem. While they were frantically searching, Draco and Hermione shared the story of Draco's defection, and all he had done to help the Order over the last year and a half. Ron came around to the idea of a good Draco quicker than Harry and offered the blond the opportunity to destroy the Horcrux within the Diadem. The relish and determination, with which Draco stabbed the Basilisk fang into the piece of jewellery, went a long way to helping convince Harry that Draco was truly on their side.

In the celebrations after the final defeat, Dumbledore and Snape made their way among the throngs of people. They added their voices to that of the Trio who were trying to convince the Aurors that Draco should not be immediately arrested and despatched to Azkaban. The joyous return of the Headmaster alongside his 'murderer' was pivotal in proving the innocence of the two former Death Eaters. The entire Malfoy family was cleared of any wrongdoing in the second war, and allowed to go about their business.

It was another two years before Draco and Hermione became a couple. She and Ron had had a very brief romance following the war, pushed together by expectations of a 'Happy Golden Couple'. The press had been relentless, and Ron's family pressured him into asking Hermione out. Hermione thought maybe Ron had matured into the man she had been hoping for back in her sixth year, and so she accepted. They only went on a few dates before realising all the reasons Hermione had laid out back then were well and truly still in force. They split amicably and told everyone that just because Harry and Ginny had lived up to the expectation, it did not mean they would.

Hermione had gone on to enjoy several flings and even some semi-serious relationships before she and Draco got together at a party one night. The rest, as they say, is history.

Draco looked over to the door where his wife of four years was standing. He placed Will, his mini-clone, on the floor and walked toward Hermione, gently rubbing the swell of her stomach when he reached her, smiling when their unborn baby kicked at his hand. Who knew that spending one Christmas in the company of the Grangers would be so rewarding?

.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story and kept up with it this week, the response has been fantastic and I am so glad you enjoyed it.


End file.
